Jasper stepped through the classroom door. He watched the humans spill down the hallway, talking and laughing, indifferent to his existence, and felt the fingers on his right hand, covered in scars, curl into a fist.
He tossed his head, disgusted by their lack of discipline. He could not switch off his military training, and high school was no army camp. Teenagers were a chaotic bunch who had no use for rules--they enjoyed bending them to breaking point but stopped before they were actually in the wrong. It was obvious they did not respect their superiors, barely acknowledging a teacher who directly addressed them.
Not that he wanted them to be disciplined. No, he had much better uses for them. As he thought about it, his fingernails bit into the flesh of his palm, but he didn't notice. All he noticed was the thirst that began to sweep over him, all he noticed was how… delicious each human looked, ignorant of his thoughts, their backs turned to him--vulnerable.
Smaller, slender fingers closed around his fist, and he jerked his head to the right, knowing who it was. He could feel her wedding band pressing against his knuckles. An immediate sense of embarrassment snaked through his abdomen as his muscles went slack, but he was quick to crush it with a rock-hard self-righteousness. Her fingers wove themselves through his, grasping his hand with a tight squeeze. Guilt laced itself through the veins in his arms.
Their eyes met.
Hers were bright, optimistic, trusting.
His were layered with shadow, the dark spots shying away from her light.
Smiling to show her confidence in him, she gave his arm a small tug.
They walked forward as one.
- -
Soon, they fell in behind Emmet and Rosalie. As they neared the cafeteria, the scent of humanity grew, burning in Jasper's throat. Rippling in the air around him, his tension moved like waves of heat. The distraction blazed, hot as coals underfoot.
Alice grabbed his attention by lifting his arm, as if in a dance, and turning below it, then allowing their hands to fall back to the space between them. But the cool sea breeze of her body beside his did not extinguish the fire, and anyone could see the sharp lines the jutting bone of his jaw made.
The entrance was the hardest part. Once he was sitting down next to her, he could turn his chair so he faced nothing but her white, opaque face, her eyes, sparkling jewels tucked under bashful bangs, the curve of her lips, like the rounded edge of a strawberry--and he could focus on the yearning to bite, bite deep into the fruit.
She knew it, too. Knew she was the only thing he focused on during lunch. Edward knew also--resented him for it--and maybe the others did as well, but the walnut-brained humans likely thought he was staring out the window.
Idiots. Warm-blooded idiots.